


Run to You

by IntuitivelyFortuitous



Series: Spones Oneshots [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, I HAVE NOW FIXED THE FORMATTING ERROR, Kids, M/M, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9590894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntuitivelyFortuitous/pseuds/IntuitivelyFortuitous
Summary: Leonard decked Spock on the playground. In his defense, the other kid had been asking for it. He didn't mean to make him bleed, but he wasn't sorry, either. He never expected them to become friends. He certainly never guessed that he would do just about anything to keep Spock by his side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Spiced Peaches winter issue alongside Spones-In-My-Bones' fantastic art piece: http://a-rich-metaphor.tumblr.com/post/156876698326/heyo-this-is-kidspock-and-kidmccoy-art-i-did
> 
> The rest of the stories published can be found here: http://spiced-peaches.livejournal.com/

Leonard huffed. He crossed his arms as dignified as he could manage despite his fists being clenched so tight he could hardly feel his fingers. One of them was throbbing dully. He imagined that the other guy, as they said, was worse off.

“Mr. McCoy,” said Mr. Schwarting. He had a habit of looking down at his students even while he sat. It had earned him the rather accurate title of the Goblin. “Do you know why you’re here?”

He just nodded. If he spoke, he was pretty sure it would come out as an insult, and he was in enough trouble as it was. Of course, teachers were rarely pleased when students got into fights. Leonard didn’t have that much experience in the beat-em-up department so maybe they would let him off easily this time, but since Spock was an ambassador’s kid, who knew. Mr. Schwarting would make him write lines or something instead of recess which was, in Leonard’s opinion, _totally_ unjustified. Spock had it coming. Alright, a punch was a little bit of a strong reaction, but he _had_ apologized. In a way. He’d even given medical treatment. Surely that should count for something.

 

The sound that his fist made when it hit Spock’s cheek was endlessly satisfying. The older boy went flying, much to his amusement, and crash landed on the ground. Leonard had a scathing comment on hand, but it disappeared when the Vulcan pressed his hand to his cheek and it came away green. Good god, was that blood? Why did it look like that? Was he sick?  
Leonard went from hostile to attentive in less than a second. “Don’t touch it,” he ordered.

Spock looked a bit shocked, which he couldn’t blame him for, that was a pretty good punch. He raised his fists defensively when Leonard stalked up to him.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be a doctor,” he stated matter-of-factly, shaking the pain out of his fist.

He knew what he was doing. A band-aid and Spock would be good as new. He took one out of his pocket, he always had at least three of different colors. He thought about asking the vulcan which one he wanted, but honestly, he didn’t care that much. There was a smear of blood on Spock’s forehead. Leonard pushed him back so he was laying on the ground and plastered a bug-patterned one over the pointy eyebrow. Leonard could handle seeing blood just fine, god knows he’d cut himself up enough times going where he oughtn’t, but Spock’s was different. Maybe because it was green. Maybe it was because he had put it there. He felt a tingle of anxiety seep through his palm, so he stuck a purple Band-Aid over the first one with steady hands. Spock gaped at him.

“I thought Vulcans weren’t supposed to show their feelings,” he snapped. Just the look on the other boy’s face was setting him off again.

“I knew humans to be belligerent, but I had never anticipated it to this extent,” he said, steeling his expression again.

Leonard didn’t get a word of that, but if he had to take a guess, it was something about how awful humans were. Len just pressed his lips together. The next bandage might have been applied more aggressively than necessary.

“Although,” Spock continued, wincing as Leonard wrapped his pocket handkerchief around the hand that was all bloody. There were little bits of dirt adhering themselves to the raw skin. He didn’t want to brush them off in case it hurt too much. “They are nowhere near as emotionally manipulative as Vulcan children.”

Leonard paused. “What? What do you mean?”

“It is none of your concern. I think that’s tight enough!” he said with a hiss.

He ignored the protest and tied a knot. “You have to use pressure to stop the bleeding,” he explained.

Spock nodded reluctantly. “Logical,” he said, “although unnecessary.”

“C’mon,” he said, brushing off the pebbles that had decided to embed themselves into his knees, “let’s find the nurse.”

He thought Spock might try to argue, so he grabbed the injured hand and pulled it with him. There was something about what he had said that bothered him. He’d have to look up what emotional manipulation entailed, but it wasn’t the words that mattered anyway. Spock’s expression said more than his fancy terminology ever could have. He didn’t like the way guilt churned in his stomach.

“Hey Spock?” he said, kicking the door to the school open.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” he bit out, feeling the guilt abate a bit.

“I am adequate.”

Call him crazy, but he thought Spock sounded a little less bitter.

 

Unfortunately, as amicable their encounter had ended, one of the other students had seen the fight reported it to his teacher. Leonard may have been feeling more forgiving as he dragged Spock to the nurse, but residual twinges of anger still worked their way up his spine as the intercom yelled at him. He didn’t regret punching Spock, that’s for sure, and he wasn’t about to tell the principle that he was. Spock stared at him as he rushed out the door of the nurse’s office, but he didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

So, he was called to the principal, the principal had called his father, and his father had said that he would be right along. The thought of his dad picking him up would have been excellent any other day, but he felt nothing but dread as he waited next to the school sign. A gaggle of girls brushed past him. One of them, Amara, smiled at him while the others seemed content to stampede. He liked her. She was alright. Andorian kids weren’t common on Earth, and she reminded him of Spock a little bit: she didn’t say much, but what she did was unparalleled in sarcastic wit. Spock, however, was an asshole.

After a while he saw his dad’s clunky blue pickup pull up. He always thought it smelled nice, like faded vinyl and plastic and engine oil. Usually the bumps in the road were a comforting way to end the day, but the silence that was lingering between them just made every lurch of the car feel like an earthquake. He winced as his dad went over another pothole. He thought there might have been a few more than usual.

“Dad,” he started, not sure what to say.

“Not now,” David said, and Leonard snapped his mouth shut as he was jolted by another dent in the pavement.

He felt the apology being torn from him. He wasn’t sorry for hitting Spock, yeah right, but he hated to see that look on his dad’s face and he hated the silent treatment even more. He twisted his hands together.

“When we get home,” David said, turning down the long and even bumpier road to the farm, “you’re going to apologize to your mother and then you’re going to write a letter to the young man who you injured today. Is that understood?”

“But—”

“Leonard!”

“Yes sir,” he said, biting his lip.

The ‘writing letters to people that you needed to apologize to’ was a remnant of his mother’s own past. Apparently she had been much rowdier than he—Leonard could imagine rather easily—and she had caused as much of a ruckus in childhood. She didn’t much fancy apologies either. Her father—Len’s grandfather—had taught her that saying sorry didn’t always have to be done the conventional way. And yeah, giving a letter was embarrassing, but actually saying sorry was the _absolute_ worst.

And besides, technically he could write whatever he wanted in it. His mom never checked; she thought it was a breach of privacy. He didn’t even have to write that he was sorry if he didn’t want to. If he was that kind of guy, which he wasn’t.

He slunk into the school the next morning, greeted Mr. Richards politely, and hid in the back of the classroom.

He aced the spelling exam, scraped through their history lesson, and fell asleep halfway through math. Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. With the words “alright, we’re going to the cafeteria,” he lunged from his seat in what was far from an orderly manner and sprinted toward the door, making third place in line behind two of the more boring kids in the class. He dug through his sack lunch on the way. He had begged his mom for it the next morning, he was going to damn well use it. He was sure it would seal the deal.

Leonard’s fist closed around a honey-sesame snack (not a real candy because his mother was on a health spree) and he shoved it in his pocket. It was easily the most appetizing thing in his lunch, but hey. Anything for the sake of peace.

Leonard found himself standing on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of that awful bowl cut through the maze of other children. He didn’t see it. He wasn’t even sure if Spock had the same lunch period as him. Oh, well. He would just wait until recess.

The shouts of children became so loud that it was too hard to hear his own thoughts. Several people tried to talk to him. He ignored them.

“Leonard,” Karen said, pulling on his hand. “Come with us! Jesse has a Ouija board.”

While Leonard attempted to convey his exact distaste for the supernatural using only facial expressions, he felt a brush of cloth from behind him.

He turned around sporting what was undoubtedly a gruesome glare. Spock stepped back.

“It’s you,” he said, ignoring Karen entirely. “Come here, I have something I need to give you.”

He pulled Spock along by the hand again, ensuring that escape was impossible. When he chanced a glimpse behind him, he found that the other boy was frowning.

“Wait,” he said, as they reached a tree with several different sets of initials carved shallowly into the bark, “that hand isn’t still hurting, is it?”

Spock shook his head hurriedly as Len plopped his bag onto the ground. A little too hurriedly, actually. Leonard wasn’t too great at making friends or socializing with the other kids, but if there was one thing he could pride himself on, it was recognizing facial expression. His teacher thought it was ironic. He disagreed.

“Give it here,” he said, holding out his hands expectantly. Spock was doing a weird sort of dance in and out of the shade. Leonard pushed him into the sun so he could examine the wounds he had inflicted.

“You need not concern yourself,” he attempted, yanking his hand back. Leonard held on fast.

There was a nice clean band aid over the top. It wasn’t bleeding. He deemed it acceptable treatment.

“It does not hurt,” Spock repeated, carefully but insistently removing his hand from Leonard’s.

“Alright,” he said, hesitant. He sat in the grass at the edge of the shade and patted a place in the sun for Spock.

Spock stared at him expectantly. He seemed about as uncomfortable as Len did.

He picked a few more pieces of grass and tossed them to the ground (they happened to land on Spock’s shoe) and dug into his pocket. The note had gotten a little bit wrinkled. It had a dirt stain on the back. Leonard watched intently as Spock peeled back the many folds with deft hands. 

“I’m supposed to write you a note to say sorry, so sorry,” he read aloud.

Leonard nodded approvingly. He shooed away a curious box elder beetle. It crawled away slowly. “Yeah,” he said.

“I thought I already conveyed that your attack had been forgiven,” he said, meeting Leonard’s eyes for the first time that day.

Leonard quashed the rising giddiness and shrugged. “Family tradition or something like that.”

“In that case, I—”

“Oh, wait!” He dug further into the pocket he had cut to encompass the majority if his pant leg, “I brought this. As a, uh…incentive.”

“For what?” Spock said, taking the wrapped sweet from Leonard’s outstretched hand anyway.

“Whatever,” he explained.

Spock opened it cautiously and sniffed. “This does not contain cocoa?”

“Does it look like chocolate to you?”

Spock must have conceded the point because he nibbled off a corner. Leonard waited anxiously.

“Thank you,” he said. He ate the rest, keeping it cleanly inside the wrapping.

Leonard beamed. “No problem.”

When Mr. Richards called the classes in that day and saw them together, he smiled slyly at them. It pissed Leonard off a little bit.

 

Leonard found Spock the next day at recess and forced him to play. They debated. He yelled at Spock once and apologized before Spock or anyone else could take offense. He was called illogical three times.

The day after that, he found Spock again, this time hiding in the corner of the lunch room where nobody else could see him. He shared some of his peanut butter—Spock had never had it before. Spock told Leonard a little bit about his family and Leonard gave Spock enough information for a narrative, but neither of them argued. He was sure the teachers thought it was a miracle.

The pattern continued, Leonard would chase Spock down and force him to engage in social activity. Spock would request assistance with art homework and Leonard practically shoved his history essays into the other’s backpack. He might not have wanted to admit it at first, but he thought they might have become friends somewhere along the way.

It was the Wednesday before winter break when Spock sought him out for the first time. Leonard ignored the burst of satisfaction he felt at seeing a black bowl cut bobbing across the classroom a few hours before they were ‘scheduled’ to meet.

“You’re early,” he said with a grin.

He had his math book open on his desk. The only thing that was done on his worksheet was the first question, the rest was decorated with doodles. One of them may have been a very pointy stick figure. Spock looked at it skeptically. 

“My teacher has been called to a meeting. My class was instructed to join yours.”

“Really?” Leonard asked, delighted.

Spock nodded.

“Kay,” he said, scooting over so Spock could share his seat, “so remember how yesterday I told you about how my dad does work on the car every weekend?” he said, bouncing a little bit in anticipation.

Spock raised an eyebrow. It was the closest thing to a smile he had gotten even after a week, so Leonard figured it was better than nothing. At least it meant he was paying attention.

“Well, he told me I could help him today. So I went out before school and handed him wrenches and stuff? We actually got it to start this time. He’d never been able to start it before.”

“Fascinating,” Spock awarded him.

Leonard grinned. They talked all through class and the teacher didn’t criticize them once.

 

Everything had been going so well that naturally someone had to break the trend. They had still been sharing a classroom that Friday, much to Leonard’s delight, when the teacher had answered the phone during free time. Shortly after, Spock’s parents had showed up at the door.

“Spock,” the man had greeted, “I trust everything is adequate.”

“Yes, father.”

He had then disappeared back into the hallway and that was the entirety of Leonard’s introduction to Sarek.

Amanda, though, was a different story. She smoothed down Spock’s hair and rubbed an invisible speck of dirt off of his nose. Spock glared into the wall while Leonard snickered. Seeing Spock turn literally green was just about the most interesting thing that had happened all day. It was a reaction that he had been unable to elicit, after all.

“Hi, honey, how are you doing? Is your class going alright?” she said and smiled as she caught leonard staring. 

“It is adequate,” Spock said through clenched teeth. Leonard poked him in the ear just to be annoying. He sent back a glare that could have burned a hole through steel.

The woman turned toward him, her brown curls defying known laws of gravity.

“You must be Leonard,” she said, offering a hand.

He took it, displaying his most charming grin. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “Are you Spock’s mom?”

“I sure am! I’m Amanda. I’ve been hearing quite a bit about you!”

Leonard decided immediately that he liked her much more than Spock’s dad. Or his dad, for that matter. Spock, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to become one with the multi-colored carpet.

“Might I ask what your purpose is today, Mother?” he asked, letting more emotion out than he likely intended.

Leonard didn’t know much about Spock’s family, but he guessed that the flinch that crossed her face was probably not a good sign. His excitement faded a little.

“Your father and I had a scheduled meeting with your teachers, Spock, don’t worry. I just wanted to say hi while I was here.” She patted his shoulder comfortingly. Spock relaxed a bit. Leonard didn’t.

Amanda sighed lightly, her eyes shining in amusement. She turned to Leonard. “Say, I’ve been wondering if you would like to sleep over at our house this weekend. I think some friend time would do Spock some good, don’t you?”

Spock, eyes huge, nodded eagerly. Of course, Leonard agreed immediately. Honestly, if he didn’t have three sisters that would immediately have ambushed his new friend, he would have offered a sleepover a long time ago. The uneasy feeling that had gripped him a moment ago was long gone.

He gave Amanda his mom’s phone number and waved enthusiastically as she left.

“She’s amazing,” he noted.

Spock looked mildly disgusted.

 

That was when things took a turn for the worst. It was also when he had first seen Spock lose control of his emotions. Leonard had always hoped that he would get squeeze a smile out of him. Heck, even anger would be a victory. He had never hoped for it to happen like this.

The sleepover started great. They drank sweet drinks (not hot chocolate because apparently that was like alcohol to Vulcans) and told ghost stories. Even though the food was vegetarian, he loved it.

Halfway through their second movie—he was showing Spock Star Wars—Spock’s dad’s Padd lit up. They had borrowed it to project their shows and Spock had assured him that the communication function had been turned off, but there was still the beep of a received message before a notification pop up blocked the screen. It overlayed itself right across Star Wars just as Han narrowly dodged enemy fire.

Leonard didn’t look at it at first. He had been too focused on Spock’s face as the audio of fake phasers continued without the picture. 

The expression that his friend wore was unmistakeable hurt.

“Spock?” he asked tentatively. He struggled to look away, but he had to know what forced that sort of response. He squinted at the the blinding white screen.

It looked like a receipt.

 _Departure time confirmed_ , it said.

To Vulcan.

He wasn’t sure if he was just jumping to conclusions until he saw the words _no return date scheduled_ written in tiny black letters.

“Spock,” he repeated, now hesitant to glance over. He shouldn’t have been afraid to see an expression, but he was. He thought it would mirror his own, and he was right.

The usually serene features of his friend were were washed out by the bright light of the screen, but it was anger, indignation that dwarfed any response Leonard had managed to elicit from him before. Spock leaped from his seat and Leonard scrambled after him, grabbing his arm, feeling the hot skin beneath Spock’s sweater.

“Wait just a minute,” he tried.

“Let go,” Spock snarled, tearing his hand from Leonard’s grip and knocking him back. There was a flicker of guilt.

“Wait a second, Spock, you don’t know that it means—”

“I’m not stupid, Leonard, I know what one way tickets for a family of three means.” He ran his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Hey,” Leonard said, doing the only thing he knew how to do in a situation like this one. He hugged Spock around the shoulders, petting the back of his head in the way that his mom did when she was upset. Spock was shaking.

“I don’t want to go back.”

“Spock, you need to tell me what’s going on,” he said, feeling thin arms wrap around his back.

“I _knew_ we were only here for a year, Len, but I had hoped—I didn’t want to become more _human_ so I hoped we would just stay here forever so I wouldn’t—so I didn’t—”

“We can talk to your mom about this, I bet she would let you stay,” he offered hopefully.

“Her work on Vulcan is highly important,” Spock said, his voice flat.

Leonard thought for a moment. “Then you can come live with me. You can stay in my cousin’s room, he won't be here until Christmas.”

“Please,” his friend said into his shoulder.

He was making little gasping noises like Leonard’s little sis did when she was about to cry. There were times when his mind did a strange thing, like magnets snapping together or assembling a complex puzzle with just a few moves. He gasped. _Nowhere near as emotionally manipulative Vulcan children_ , his mind echoed. He had asked his dad what that meant that day. He didn’t like it one bit.

Leonard felt a surge of protectiveness. Spock was his friend. If anyone tried to take him away, it would have to be over his dead body.

“Write a note,” he said.

“What?”

“A note. Come on, now, we can’t leave them without telling them that you’ll be okay.”

Spock let go of him and stepped back his eyes wide with fear and excitement, and Leonard knew he’d been convinced.

“Get packed,” he said, “I know how to find the bus schedule.”

 

As it turned out, getting out of the house was more difficult than he had anticipated. He had enough money for the both of them for the bus, but Spock’s mom was still awake downstairs and even leonard didn’t think he could get by without her seeing him. He was a little bit guilty when he thought about how worried Amanda would be, but he pushed the thought out of his mind.

Spock didn’t grab much. He had a backpack strapped over his shoulder that was half empty at most. Leonard didn’t say anything but pocketed the snacks that had been left out for them.

They climbed down the tree outside the window. It wasn’t dangerous, they were only on the second floor, and if anybody knew how to climb a tree, it was Len. He only noticed that Spock had started to shiver after they were at the bottom. He’d have to make it to the bus stop and fast.

“Kay. It’s on Victoria Avenue next to the bike shop,” he instructed, and Spock nodded. They had gone there twice with their class.

A few minutes later, he had eaten half of the snacks and Spock had requisitioned his jacket and they may have taken a wrong turn or two. Spock got them back on track eventually, but even Leonard was starting to get chills by the time they could see the bus stop. The backpack Spock was carrying started to buzz.

“What is that?”

Spock gaped back at him. He mumbled something in Vulcan.

Leonard narrowed his eyes. “Spock.”

“It’s my communicator,” he said, frozen.

“You’re kidding me.”

His mind vacillated between amazement that his friend had his own personal communicator and shame that of all people, of all species, Spock the Vulcan had forgotten to take it out of his backpack. He rested his head in his hands.

“Dammit,” he mumbled.

There was a pause, a beep, and then it started to vibrate again. Spock made no move to open the backpack.

“Well?” Len snapped, “aren’t you going to answer it?”

Spock glanced at him, he face blank but his posture guilty. He rummaged through his bag until he found a sleek blue object. He visibly steeled himself before he pressed a button.

“S’chn T’gai Spock,” came a female voice.

Leonard winced. Pulling out the full names was far from a good sign.

“Mother.”

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing?” her voice sounded irate even though static.

They exchanged glances. Neither was too eager to answer.

“Spock, your father doesn’t know that you _ran away_. I’m inclined to have him fetch you if I don’t see you in less than three minutes!”

Spock sighed, his breath fogging into the mic. He was shivering again. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he said weakly.

“And why not?”

Leonard took the phone from Spock’s cold hands. “Ma’am? This is Leonard. The truth is, we’re too far away from your house to be there in three minutes.”

There was another gap of silence.

“I’m going to come and get you and we _will_ speak of this when we get home. Tell me where you are.”

Spock told her.

She arrived five minutes later in the hovercar.

If Leonard had thought that the drive home with his dad the day after the fight was awkward, this was pure torture. Amanda didn’t even have to say anything and it was torture. Sue him if he scooted a little closer to Spock than he normally would have. He was going to have to face Sarek in a few minutes and, thanks, he was not looking forward his imminent death. Spock grabbed his hand. His expression was back to emotionless ice. Leonard agreed, he knew he was doomed if they called his mom.

He was right. They got back to Amanda’s house in record time. She shooed both of them in past Sarek who was waiting at the door. Leonard and Spock knew that leaving the room would be a terrible decision, so they stood together in a corner away from the whispering adults. Spock grabbed his other wrist. He felt fear and anticipation radiating through their touch, but also a feeble attempt at confidence. If this was his friend’s way of comforting him, he would take what he could get.

Amanda finally broke the eye conversation she had been having with her husband and looked toward them.

“Leonard,” she said, “would you mind talking to me in the hallway for a few minutes?”

He and Spock exchanged nervous glances.

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly following her with a lingering glance toward the door. God, he was going to be in so much trouble. He doubted Spock was any better off with his dad. 

She sat down on a wooden bench beneath a rustic looking coat rack and patted the seat next to her. “Come sit down,” she said. He had a feeling she wasn’t asking.

As he sat down, he tucked his feet under his legs and squeezed his fist. He tried to remember the feeling of Spock’s emotions seeping through his skin. As fearful as they were, it had been comforting.

“I’m not here to punish you,” she started, “I was a kid once, too, you know.”

He clenched his teeth. “He didn’t want to go back to Vulcan, Ma’am. He still doesn’t.”

“I know.”

“And if he went back than he wouldn’t be able to see me and the people there would be mean to him and…” he trailed off, squeezing the end of his sleeves. She reached for his white-knuckled hands. He let her.

“I appreciate what you were trying to do, Leonard,” Amanda said softly. He felt the build up of tears threatening to escape. “But you can’t always be there to protect Spock. You’re right, he was bullied on Vulcan, and I thank you for caring so much about him, but you can’t solve his problems. Sometimes they can be solved by, say, changing schools. We had hoped to give him a chance to make friends while his father was working here and I’m very happy to see that he made such a good one.”

Leonard’s eyes widened.

Amanda squeezed his shoulder. “Spock has changed a lot since we brought him from Vulcan, Leonard, like we hoped he would. I think you’re to thank for quite a bit of it. There are other reasons why we have to go back, honey, do you understand?”

Leonard nodded because he couldn’t trust his voice.

“Am I gonna get to say goodbye?” he asked.

“Of course. He should be done talking to his father. You can stay with him until your parents get here.”

He didn’t make eye contact with anything but the pattern of the carpet until he found himself at Spock’s door. He knocked quietly.

“Leonard?” came a voice.

He took that as a sign to go in.

“I’m sorry,” Spock said before Len could even open his mouth.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. “I’m the one who had this idea. I’m the one who got you in trouble.”

He shuffled over to sit next to Spock on the bed. They focused twin stares at their shoes.

Spock shook his head. “I’m glad you did. I undoubtedly would have angered my father as it was.”

“But now you have to leave sooner,” Leonard protested, feeling the prickle of tears threatening to return.

Spock didn’t have an answer to that. They sat in silence, both knowing that this could very well be the last time they got to see each other. He could hear angry whispers from downstairs. “I thought you _told_ him!” “I did not intend for him to find out like this, Amanda, I—” “I don’t care what you _intended_ , Sarek…”

“Spock?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Spock shifted, sitting on his hands. “I will miss you as well.”

There was a persistent knocking from downstairs and he knew that it was his mother at the door. Where his mother went, his father would soon follow. He shivered. He’d be grounded for months.

He made to stand up, but Spock caught his wrist. “If I come back, will you see me?”

“I promise.”

Spock let go of his hand. Would he ever come back? Would his own parents ever let him visit? He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Fine.Leonard leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his friend’s lips just as a voice called him from below.

“Bye, Spock,” he said as he leaped from the bed, not waiting for an answer before he rushed out the door. He didn’t want Spock to see him cry.

 

 

“Come on, Bones, stay thirty minutes. It’s xenobiology today. You’ll like it.” 

The man had a habit of clinging like a burr when he was sober, so there was no chance of getting him to let go when he was still a little bit delirious from medication. Leonard clenched his teeth and maneuvered Jim to the bottom row where it would be less likely for him to fall and hit every step on the way down. 

“Dammit, Jim, do you have to eat everything you see?” he asked, pocketing another hypospray just in case. 

“Okay, in my defense, it smelled really good. Like, _so_ good.” Jim groaned loudly and flopped back into his chair. It skidded back a few inches with an agonizing squeak. 

Leonard winced. “And you didn’t guess that it _maybe_ had something in it that your body couldn’t handle?”

Jim just groaned.

He would stay. Not because Jim was begging him, thanks, but because he wasn’t entirely confident that the kid’s tongue wouldn’t swell up to the size of a small melon. 

“Fine, Jim.” He covered his ears for the resulting whoop.

“You are the best roommate,” Jim said, slinging his arms around the medical bag and dragging it to his side of the desk. 

Leonard sighed. “You’re delirious. Just ask your professor if he’ll let you leave, he’ll see that you’re invalid soon enough.”

He would have to. If he was a biology instructor, he would have to see that Jim’s pupils were so dilated that he looked Betazoid and that he was wobbling in his seat. Okay, to be fair, he just looked high, but that’s why Leonard was there. He packed up his tricorder and pulled out a notebook. He’d take notes for Jim today. _Only_ today. 

“Did I tell you that you’re the best?” Jim asked, head lolling on the desk. 

“Not enough,” he said. 

“I’ll buy you a drink,” he yawned. 

“Single malt, Jim, nothing else.”

Leonard was aware of the rest of the class becoming very quiet. They dutifully slid their pads to the corner of their desks. After a moment, he did the same. Their instructor, a tall Vulcan with intense eyes, stood at the bottom of the amphitheatre. He ignored the high five that Jim stuck out for him. 

“I do not believe that you are enrolled in this class,” he said, stopping short of his desk. 

“I’m not, sir.”

“I see. If you would vacate the classroom, I will continue the lecture.”

Leonard clenched his teeth. Pardon him for attempting to being quiet so the class could continue without distraction. 

“Look, I’m a doctor, and Jim here just went into anaphylactic shock, which, I might add, you would have noticed if you so much as looked at him. Now, I’m going to sit here and take notes like a good quiet student and you aren’t going to bother me. Capiche?” 

The class was silent. Nyota grinned at him from a corner, eyebrows raised, and Jim giggled unhelpfully, his face still comically puffy. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. 

“Very well, Dr…”

“McCoy,” he bit out, “Leonard McCoy.”

The other eyebrow joined the first. “Fascinating.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is of no consequence,” he said, walking toward the projector.

Leonard frowned. “You’re not gonna offer yours, are you?” he mumbled. 

He didn’t. 

Halfway through the lecture, Leonard had almost vibrated out of his skin. The Vulcan asshole, as he had taken to calling him (it sounded eerily familiar, actually), was sending challenging glances his way. God knew what they meant. The last was after a student had asked a question about the chemical quality of Andorian skin. Was he supposed to answer it? 

He scribbled determinedly in the margin and refused to make eye contact. 

“Professor Spock,” Nyota called from behind them, “is the telepathic capacity of a species in any way related to long term memory?”

Leonard stilled. Professor Spock. He immediately ceased his boycott on eye contact and stared the man down. It couldn’t be. He’d have heard of an ambassador’s son teaching at Starfleet and more importantly he would have investigated anyone with that name immediately. The man—Spock—turned back towards him with a smug look on his face. Dammit, did he have a sensor for whenever Leonard looked at him? He probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t had practice reading Vulcans as a child. A particular Vulcan, actually. 

“Excellent question, Cadet. Because the neurology of telepathic species differ so greatly, it is difficult to apply known measurements of long term memory to all of them.”

Maybe his mouth had a mind of its own. Maybe he had gone insane, but his first response was to blurt out, “In other words, he doesn’t know.”

Spock whipped around with fire in his eyes. 

“One cannot confirm a null hypothesis, _Doctor_. I admit that it is a logical conclusion, however, especially given that your own psychic rating and long term memory seem to be positively correlated,” he said, hands neatly folded behind his back. 

“Alright, _Mister Spock_ , how the hell would you know what my psychic reading is? Testing out that Vulcan Voodoo as we speak?” he said, matching Spock in angle of his eyebrow. _Spock_ , his mind repeated with disbelief. 

Spock stepped forward. “You should know that emotional and intellectual transference can only be achieved through physical contact,” he said. 

Leonard fought the urge to stand up. “I should know? I might be a doctor but I’m not a goddamn mind reader.” His heart pounded. If he was right, then...

“It shouldn’t take so much to recall your own past, Leonard.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. He leaped from his chair, almost tripped on the drop from the row of seats to the floor, and threw himself at Spock. _His_ Spock, the stupidly smart kid that had been his first crush and his best friend, the one that he had done nothing but worry about for years. He had become a fond memory, laced with twinges of pain. To see him again was indescribable. Spock caught him around the waist. 

“Asshole,” Leonard said, tangling his hands in silky black hair. “I missed you.”

“And I you,” Spock said, amusement and elation radiating from him in waves. 

“Your class is staring at us,” he said, nose still buried in Spock’s neck. He never thought he’d love the smell of generic Starfleet shampoo. 

“They are,” Spock noted. 

“Jim’s never gonna let me live this down,” he said.

“Damn straight!” Jim shouted from behind him, still sounding rather muffled. 

Leonard chuckled and untangled himself. He took in his friend’s eyes, how they darkened in the years he had been gone. Damn, he hoped he hadn’t had too much of a hard time on Vulcan after he left. There was a tiny scar over his eyebrow, though. He wanted to trace it, to find out if there were more. Spock gripped Leonard’s forearms. 

“Later,” he said. 

Leonard took his seat, grinning at the open astoundment of the other students. “Sorry kids, spectacle is over.”

Spock went back to teaching his lesson like nothing had happened and Jim didn’t stop balling up pieces of Leonard’s notebook and throwing them at the heads of innocent bystanders. 

He didn’t manage to take very many notes for the rest of class. 

Later, his phone buzzed with nothing more than a time and and address. Jim almost gave himself a concussion trying to steal his padd. Leonard set aside his nicest shirt and refused to tell anyone why. Torturing Jim was fun. Getting to know Spock again was more so.


End file.
